


The Emperor's New Love

by Mamapotterhead2492



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 22:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13063758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mamapotterhead2492/pseuds/Mamapotterhead2492
Summary: Prince Draco has quite an adventure ahead of him. How does the merchant girl in the marketplace fit into it.Written for the Strictly Dramione Secret Santa Exchange 2017.





	The Emperor's New Love

Prince Draco strolled through the village square arrogantly. Why shouldn't he? He was indeed a posh, spoilt man. He stopped at a kiosk where a brunette woman was selling fruit, because the woman was beautiful, despite the rags she called clothes. Her hair and her eyes were dark, but she had an allure nonetheless. He picked up three mangos and several guavas.

“Miss? Can you come over here and take my pounds please? I'm in a bit of a rush,” he spoke up, interrupting her current haggling. She held up a finger in his direction as she finished her current transaction. 

“Now would be nice,” he muttered offhandedly, not keen on being ignored or made to wait. 

She shook her head at him and says goodbye to the man she had been helping, before moving to a mother of two small children. Draco rapped his fingers against one of the columns holding up her kiosk impatiently. 

She couldn't ignore him, he was the prince! He would have her beheaded! Needless to say, he was irate. 

When he had had enough, he stomped over to where she was helping the woman and her children. He put his hands in front of the woman and caught the glare of the kiosk maiden. 

“I told you one moment,” her tone was laced with ire. 

“You told me nothing! You held a finger to me, made me to wait as if I am some, some… commoner! I am the prince of this land! I demand to be serviced first!” Their noses were millimeters apart.

“You may have the other merchants and vendors scared into bending to your will, but I, am not them. I will treat you as if you are just another customer and you will like it. Prince or not you will wait your turn,” her tone ripe with derision. 

“I could have you beheaded for speaking to me in such a way,” he dropped his tone to a seductive note. 

The woman rolled her eyes. She moved his arm out of her way and handed the patiently waiting mother her goods. The woman exchanged a purse of coins for them and walked away. 

“Frankly Your Highness, I have no time for empty threats. Now, coins please?” She held out her hand expectantly. 

He pulled out his coin purse and opened it. He thumbed through it and looked up at her. 

“How much do I owe you?” He asked. The woman grasped his coin purse and removed it from his hands. 

“Oh, that’ll cover it,” she replied, turning away from him. 

“Wait, what?! That's my entire spending for the month! Give me that back!” he demanded, nearly jumping over the flat surface between them. 

“I'll consider it a tip for dealing with your impatience,” she called back nonchalantly. 

He was seeing red. He was livid.

“You’re a dirty rotten thief!” he howled, walking to stand where he could face her. 

She looked up into his face angrily. 

“No, I'm a merchant. I charge extra for arsehole princes to consume my goods. You are a heartless tyrant who prays on the common folk under your reign,” She had calmed down now, continuing to count the coins she had taken from the prince. 

“I’ll shut you down!” he interjected, still writhing in anger. 

“Go ahead and try. I’ll still find somewhere to sell my wares. Unlike you, I can live off more than my looks and Daddy’s money,” She quipped, as she began to arrange her produce. 

“What looks?” he muttered angrily. 

She looked up at him, and scowled. She slammed a crate of dates down within centimeters of his fingertips. The prince jumped back. 

“You did that on purpose!” he railed, his anger continuing to evolve. 

The merchant girl looked up at him innocently. 

“Did what Your Highness? I was only trying to set my crate down somewhere within closer reach,” she said. 

The prince was beyond anger. He sputtered and spit as he searched his brain for another insult. He found his mind suddenly blank. 

“Bollocks!” he cursed, dropping one of his guavas.

“Pardon me Your Highness? You want me to do what with your bollocks?” She smiled innocently. He scowled and turned away from her. 

“I shall return you insubordinate peasant,” he muttered as he bent to pick up the fallen fruit. 

She giggled to herself. 

“No rush, You spoilt, stubborn tyrant,” she shot back. He met her eyes again and then turned to stalk out of the village marketplace.

 

********************************

 

He began to walk through the forest that separated his castle from the village below. He knew the path well, but darkness made it a home of shadows and whispers. 

He walked between towering trees and large, sharp boulders as he kept to the path. He could swear he heard the melodious laughter of his royal sorceress, Pansy, echoing around him. A moment later he swore he saw her shapely shadow against a rock as he went. 

As the darkness grew, he felt a sense of foreboding circling him. It made the hair on the name of his neck stand pin straight and goose pimples rise across his skin. Soon he sensed a presence in the trees with him. 

“Who’s there?” he called, his voice seemingly bouncing from tree to tree as he spun around in a circle to find the source of the presence. He was met with nothing. 

He shuddered as he felt the air grow cold around him, but he still needed to walk to the palace, so he trudged on. 

A few meters later, he stopped again, sweating he heard a maniacal cackle from beyond his sight line. He scowled and continued to walk. 

“Draco,” came a snake-like whisper. Draco jumped and turned. There she was. 

Before him, was his royal sorceress, Pansy. She wore a violet, clinging, magician’s robe and her dark hair cascaded down her shoulders as she watched him like a predator stalks their prey. 

He shook his head. 

“Not this again,” he muttered, turning away from her. 

She snapped her fingers and he found her blocking his path again. 

“Now, now Draco, is that any way to greet your royal sorceress?” Her voice was thick as fresh honey. 

“Royal pain in my arse would be a more appropriate title,” he grumbled trying to walk past her. 

She grabbed hold of his lapels and pulled him closer. She kissed the corner of his mouth longingly but he didn't react. 

“Is that any way to talk to your future queen?” she asked, her hand fishing in his trousers. 

He grabbed her wrist and pulled it upwards. He used the motion to throw her forward onto the ground. 

“You will never be my queen, never. Do you hear me? Over my dead, maggot infested corpse you will be my queen. Now get out of my way!” He yelled, staring at the disheveled woman. 

“You know I may just take you up on that. Enjoy your evening Prince Draco,” she stared him down evilly. 

He took the opportunity to walk past her. He practically jogged the rest of his way to the palace. 

 

When he was out of earshot, Pansy’s assistant came out from behind a fallen log. His hair shone in the moonlight peeking through the leaves. 

“What now? Your advances aren't working,” he asked, staring down at the petite woman. 

She looked up at him and smiled a wicked grin. 

“Oh I won't give up, we will just have to...force his hand,” she murmured, her eyes glistening with joy. 

“How?” he asked again. 

“For now, we will let the prince think he has gotten through to me. I'll invite him to dinner, and figure it out from there. You'll be there as the muscle. We get rid of Prince Draco and I will be queen,” she hissed as the red headed man took her in his arms, “And then, you will be my king.” 

He kissed her fiercely and she felt her knees go weak. 

“Not now, my love, I must return to the castle and set our plan into motion. Stay close to me, always close to me.” 

“Always.” 

She nodded and disappeared into the fog of the forest. 

 

***********************************

 

Once back at the castle, Draco was adjusting his crown in the mirror. Pansy walked into his quarters and leaned against a doorframe. Draco caught her stance in the mirror. 

“Not this again. Listen Pansy, I don't know how many times I need to tell you it is never going to happen!” he howled, turning towards her and knocking over a priceless Grecian vase in his wake.

 

She held up her hands in a show of surrender and slowly walked towards him. 

“No, no. I understand now Draco. I just, I wanted to invite you to a dinner of my making as a show of my understanding. We can be friends and colleagues can't we?” she asked, touching his wrists. 

Draco looked down at her. He couldn't read the look in her eyes. Was she being sincere? Or was this another smoke screen for a seduction attempt? She softened her stare and he found it oddly welcoming. His shoulders sagged finally. 

“Oh alright, friends and colleagues, nothing more,” he conceded. 

Pansy wanted to squeal in glee. Her plan was working perfectly. 

 

A few hours later, Draco was sitting at Pansy’s dinner table, watching her slave over a stove, surprisingly eager to see what she was making. She finally set a plate in front of him and he noticed it was a delicious looking steak. She came to sit opposite him and smiled genuinely at the prince. He dug in instantly. He tore at the steak with his silverware and ate it quickly. 

“Ron, why don't you get the prince and I something to drink?” she motioned the lanky redhead forward. 

He nodded and walked towards her cupboards. He fished several liquid filled vials out of the cupboard and began to pour them into golden goblets bearing a striking resemblance of the prince’s profile on the cup. He brought them forward and gave Pansy the unpoisoned goblet. Then he handed the doctored libation to the prince, who took it gratefully. He brought the cup to his lips and tipped it upwards, sipping the chilled liquid and letting it trickle down his throat. 

 

Moments later he felt his body go rigid and Pansy walked towards him. 

“Funny little creature he is. I half expected a llama, but this, this is so much better. Don't worry Draco, I'll take good care of the castle and your citizens. Good luck finding a witch to kiss you before Christmas. If you don't, your condition will be….permanent. Fetch him Ron,” she directed.

 

The redhead moved forward with a comically large hammer and tried to slam it down upon the prince but he dodged it. He looked down at himself and noticed fluffy white fur on his arms. His hands were paws with sharp claws where each finger should be. He tried to swear at Pansy but only high pitched squeaks came out. Pansy laughed. He grabbed his throat in protest as Ron lifted the hammer to slam it down again. 

Draco scampered across the table and climbed up Pansy’s body, coming to rest atop her head. She screeched in anger and Ron turned around clumsily. He lumbered towards her and raised the hammer. She wore a look of rage. 

“If you try to splat him while he’s on my head you will spend the next 100 years as a TEA COZY!” She wailed dramatically. Ron had to swallow the urge to laugh at her lack of composure. 

Draco leapt from her head to the cupboard filled with potions. 

“Stop him you oaf!” she howled, a vein popping in her neck. 

He landed hard and sent potion bottles to shatter on the floor. He fingered the vials to the best he could, knocking over the ones closest to him. He lapped at liquid after liquid, transforming from a chameleon to a fat ginger cat, to a horse, then a fly, and finally a llama. He tried his vocal chords with each potion, realizing that only the llama potion gave him the ability to talk.

However, after so many consumed potions, he felt sick. He fell over in between the sorceress and her lover. His eyes rolled around in his head and he fainted. 

“Excellent! He's dead! Bag him up and dispose of the body! Now!” The wicked woman howled at her accomplice. 

Ron looked at her for a moment and then picked up the prince, only to lay him on a piece of unrolled canvas. He bunched it up and tied it off, slinging the prince over his shoulder. He kissed the sorceress’ cheek and left the castle. 

 

He made it to the river that flowed out of town, humming adventurous tunes to himself as he went. He placed the bundled up prince in the water and watched him float away. 

“Mission accomplished,” he nodded, silently patting himself on the back. He walked back to the castle. 

Prince Draco drifted down river until the fabric of the canvas caught on a twig.

 

**********************************

Morning came to the land and the local village was being verbally accosted by a pitiful, howling wail.

“Help…. Someone help me….” the voice called. 

 

Several feet away, two women were discussing the unique situation. Whatever was in the bag, clearly wanted out. 

“Someone’s got to do something, if anything we have got to, even if it's just to shut it up,” the brown haired one said. 

The blonde looked at the snagged bag with a pensive curiosity. 

“Perhaps it was a danger to itself and was placed in that bag for its own protection,” the blonde reasoned. 

The brunette nodded as she watched the bag stretch and wiggle. 

“I'm going to find out,” the brunette put down the pruning knife she had been using and stalked towards the bag. 

When she reached it, she pulled it off the branch and threw it to the ground. Her friend handed her the pruning knife, which she used to open the canvas. She and the blonde shared a look of shock when a llama was what came from the bag. 

The creature sputtered and gasped and looked up at her. The eyes struck her as familiar somehow. She shook her head and looked back at her blonde friend again. 

“You?! No, not you! My saviour can't be YOU!” the llama yelled, getting up and walking away on two feet. 

 

Wait a moment...a llama can talk? 

 

She stood and followed it. She was officially intrigued. When she found it, it was seated on a bench close to her home. Her blonde friend, was now in the kitchen. She walked closer to the creature, hoping not to startle it again. She sat beside it. 

“How… do you know me?” She asked gently. The creature stared at the ground.

“You nearly took off my fingers yesterday morning in the marketplace. That's how I know you!” He yelled, standing and storming away. 

The woman was in shock. Prince Draco?

“Prince Draco? How? Why? What happened to you?” She had a million questions. 

“None of your business. I shall find some other dignified body to return me to my palace and restore me to my normal self,” He answered snootily. 

Hermione was appalled. 

“So you think I'm not smart enough to help you get home? I'll have you know I am a smart woman. I'd wager I've read more books than you have!” Rage took over. 

The llama scowled. 

“Impossible. You're a simple common woman, commoners don't read. They just steal from the wealthy out of jealousy,” the llama protested. 

The brunette stared at this creature, once proud prince, now… a proud, thick headed llama. 

“We steal… we steal? You’re the real thief! Robbing your constituents to fund the lifestyle to which you're accustomed! Are you seriously that thick?” She turned and walked away from the animal. 

She entered her kitchen and sagged against the countertop. Her companion came and gave her a hug. 

“So how does he know you?” she asked the brunette. 

“He's the prince I told you about from yesterday in the marketplace,” she rubbed at her cheeks.

“The impatient one?” She nodded her answer. 

“One and the same. How he became a llama in a matter of hours is beyond me,” she continued, turning to stare out at the hunched over llama. 

“Maybe he irked someone with a worse temper than you, who that might be I have no idea, but…” the blonde trailed off as the brunette began to laugh. 

“Shut up Luna,” she managed around her laughter. 

She looked up again and the llama was gone. A sound echoed from their small sitting room and the two women looked up. Standing in the doorway between the two rooms was the llama. 

“Alright, prove to me you're not just another stupid commoner. You are going to take me back to my palace and turn me back into a prince,” He pointed a finger at her. She looked up at him doubtfully. 

“Did no one teach you how to ask for things you want nicely? No. I won't take you home,” She chuckled and turned away from him. 

He strode forward confidently and got in her way. 

“Yes you will,” his tone was firm and commanding. 

“No, I won't. Just because you're a Prince, doesn't mean you get everything by commanding it. I will not bend to your will, I thought I showed you that,” she continued. 

“How much? Everyone has a number. I can give you as much money as you want once you return me to my castle,” he tried. She snorted. 

“I said no. No means no you classless cad. Now, it's nearly sundown. Livestock is not customarily allowed to sleep inside a house. So out with you mister Llama!” She shooed him away. 

He walked outside and found a not particularly dusty spot to nestle down. He didn't enjoy be treated like a commoner. He was a prince he deserved to be inside servicing the two women of the house with his rod. But here he was, llama and all, outside, under a tree. He was definitely not living the princely life. 

 

The next morning he felt something spraying him. His eyes fluttered open and he saw the blonde woman spraying him with water. 

“What in the devil are you doing?” he sputtered, eyeing her angrily.

“Hermione wanted me to wake you up and tell you to be ready to leave in ten minutes,” she smiled at the creature knowingly. 

He bounced up. 

“Ready,” He acknowledged. 

 

Five minutes later, Hermione came from the small cottage and looked at him. He smiled and winked at her. 

“Morning,” he offered. She hoisted a rucksack on one shoulder and nodded. 

“Morning. Now that we have the niceties out of the way, let's go. I don't want this to take too long,” she answered, walking past him, down a sloping hill. 

***********************************

 

They traveled for several hours, and Hermione had been plotting how to throw the prince off a cliff and make it look like an accident for over an hour. He had decided to repay her kindness with incessant whinging. 

“Oh Shut UP! I have had enough! ‘Oh ow, my feet hurt.’ ‘Why is the path we walk so dirty?’ ‘Why don't you talk more? I don't like quiet.’ Honestly, you whine more than Luna’s cousin when he comes to visit; and he's four. You’re at least, what, six times his age? Grow a pair and deal with your misfortune. If you don't shut up I will take my pruning knife and carve out your tongue!” she howled, turning sharply and they met face to face. 

“Why? Does it bother you? Then allow me to continue,” he smiled smugly as he walked ahead of her, “And I'm twenty eight, if you must know. You could've just asked.”

They continued to travel on foot, while Hermione had to suppress the urge to throttle the prince. They made their way in no time, stopping three villages away when night fell. 

 

Once settled, they sat beside the campfire she had made in a palpable silence. Draco was wishing he was nestled warm inside his castle. He had so many questions for her, but didn't know how to ask them. Before long, he didn't have to postulate anymore. 

“So,” she looked up at him as she added another log to the fire, “who turned you into a llama?” He looked up to meet her eyes.

“That’s a...complicated tale,” he began as he massaged his neck.

“Complicated? A prince has a complicated tale? Color me shocked. What? Did someone plot your death to steal your billions or something?” She worded it as a joke, but he knew it wasn't.

“Yes, my royal sorceress actually. She wants to be my queen but I have no interest in her that way. She only wants me for my money. She has a lanky, clumsy lover that she uses for sex but he's daft. I rebuffed her and she tried to turn me into a ferret and dispose of me. I ran and drank a different potion which turned me into a llama and then passed out from the power of all the potions I drank in between. I guess she decided if she couldn't have me and my money willingly, she would force it,” he told. 

“Wait! A ferret? That's brilliant!” she howled in laughter. He joined her. 

“Yeah, A white fluffy one. I prefer the llama though, if I'm honest,” he looked down at his hands, “Look, Hermione is it? I'm sorry, for how I've been acting. I’m so used to yelling and getting my way, I should've been more patient.” 

She looked at him. Was he being sincere? Or just trying to make conversation?

“Well, it's not excusable but… I forgive you. Most prattish behaviors are learned,” she added. He nodded. 

“I still can't believe you agreed to help me, even with my behavior,” he was still gobsmacked over that. 

“I didn't want to. Luna made me. She said something about some infernal creatures called wrackspurts making your brain fuzzy. She thought I might be able to cure them,” she confessed. He chuckled.

“I think it's working. I feel like I see everything clearer now,” he whispered the last bit as he stared into her beautiful eyes. 

He reached a hand up and caressed her cheek, then pulled her face to his. Just as he was about to bring their lips together, she pushed him away. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, NO! I don't care what kind of civility we have resorted to, I'm NOT kissing you!” She howled, kicking over a pail of water on the fire. 

She stalked a few feet away from him and curled up to lay down. He watched her. 

“Hermione, I…” he began but she help up a firm hand. 

“No. Don't. Goodnight Prince Draco,” she muttered with a harsh finality. 

“Goodnight Hermione,” he whispered as he sprawled out beside the ashes of their campfire. 

This was going to take longer than he expected. 

 

**********************************

“Wake up. Come on, get up. If you don't get home by midnight tonight you're a llama forever,” she goaded, nudging him with her boot. 

He rolled over and popped open one eyelid. 

“Nope, it's still dark outside, I don't wake up til the sun's up,” he muttered sleepily. 

She kicked him hard in the side and he doubled over. 

“Get up now!” she yelled. 

He looked up at her and sighed in exasperation. 

“Fiiiiiiinnnneee, there's no need to resort to violence,” he rubbed at his furry stomach as he stood. 

“What would you have had me do?” She asked as she began to walk ahead of him. 

“A kiss would've been nice,” he answered mischievously. 

“In your dreams Prince. Come in get moving!” she called. He followed behind her grumbling. 

“I would've kissed you to wake you up,” he replied. She ignored his comment. 

“I'm sure there are plenty of spoiled, pampered princesses back in your kingdom that would love nothing more than to kiss a handsome, wealthy prince. Don't give up hope Your Highness,” she called back a short time later. 

“Wait, you think I'm handsome?” he answered. 

Of course that's the only part of that he heard. How princely of him, she grumbled to herself. 

“I didn't say I thought you were, just that all the princesses you come in contact with must think so,” she replied, laying on a thick excuse. 

 

“You know, I do have a very, handsome face, you were bound to notice it. So tell me about this, Luna. You two live together?” He was curious why neither was married. 

“Yes, we do,” she decided to keep her answers short. 

“Do you two ever consider finding husbands for yourselves?” 

“Luna was married, once upon a time but he died in war. So, she came to live with me. I, have no intent on finding a husband,” she answered. 

“So, do you two, bed together?” he was genuinely curious because his limited time in the hovel they had called home seemed too small for two women to coexist. 

“She’s an occasional bedmate, yes, but I travel a lot to sell things, so Luna’s often left home alone,” she rolled her eyes. 

“So wait, you two… you two are sexual towards one another?” he was baffled. 

“When we have an itch that can't be scratched, yes. But we both would prefer men,” she stabbed her walking stick into the ground, pretending it was the prince’s head. 

“Well, if you have an itch to scratch, I'm your man. I provide hours of pleasure, a beautiful home, servants, money, clothes, anything your heart desires,” he shamelessly flirted. 

She rolled her eyes again. 

“In my somewhat limited experience, men who boast about giving ‘hours of pleasure’, can barely manage five minutes of focusing on someone other than themselves so I think I'll pass. Nice try though,” she shot back. 

“You know, if you had kissed me back there, we could have found out,” he replied. 

“I didn't have an itch to scratch, or a desire to sample the exotic goods,” she hopped atop a boulder and climbed down the other side. 

“You know what I think?” Silence met him. “I think you are interested but refuse to let yourself have fun. I think you're scared that you will end up liking me,” he continued, not caring whether she was ignoring him or not. 

“Shut up Llama,” was her only answer. 

He was undeterred. He would break her yet. Whether that happened on the way back to his palace or while she trapped beneath him trembling in ecstasy. He would pound the her contempt for him out of her, thrust by thrust. 

 

Hours passed, and silence fell between them. She was walking too far ahead if him for his comments to reach her. It bugged him. He liked her nonchalant, noncommittal responses. So the silence was deafening. 

 

They stopped at midday, to eat a few fruits between them and then again, they walked. 

“Your palace should be in the next town over,” she piped up. 

“Thank you, for everything. I know I haven't made it easy,” he answered. 

She nodded. 

“You, are the most difficult prince I've ever had the displeasure of doing business with,” she agreed. He chuckled.

“Are you ready?” he asked. She nodded and stood. 

“Let’s go,” she motioned to him and he began to walk beside her. 

 

A few hours later, Draco’s palace rose against the sunset. He was happy to see home but he knew his time was running out. It was Christmas Eve and he was still outside his castle, and still a llama. 

“Hermione, you know you don't have to love me, I just need a kiss….to become a prince again,” he hoped he could persuade her. 

“What about a princess from a neighboring kingdom?” She asked, not looking at him.

“The closest one still wouldn't make it before the deadline,” He answered as he fell in step with her. 

She thought over things in her head. As they reached the entry to the marketplace, she stopped him. She stood facing him, and braced herself against his shoulders. She leaned forward and brushed their lips together sweetly, before pulling away, smiling. A blush decorated her cheeks as she walked away. 

She didn't see the blinding light behind her. She kept walking, and he walked behind her, grinning like an idiot. As they entered the marketplace, heads turned and mouths gaped open. Whispers echoed through the nearly empty space. He walked past all sorts of vendors. 

“Prince Draco’s alive! Queen Pansy shall fall! Prince Draco is back!!!” the cheers began at his back.

 

The prince smiled. He was back indeed. He strode through the forest quickly. Before long, He was in his throne room staring down the woman who had tried to kill him. She was sipping on a purple concoction, legs thrown over an arm of the chair. 

“Guards, seize her!” He howled while Hermione watched. 

Pansy’s face drained of any and all color as two brutish palace guards charged forward to pick her up and carry her out of the palace.

“Prince Draco is back now,” he smiled with finality. 

It was good to be back.


End file.
